Page 45 of Pretty Mess

“He’s hardly that.” I shrug. “It’s… It’s fine,” I say primly.

He groans. “Oh dear.”

“Shut up.” I hesitate. “Talking of Cormac, I have news.”

He clasps his hands to his chest and flutters his eyelashes. “He’sproposed.” He snorts as I glare at him. “Go on. What’s happened now? I haven’t been at the club much myself, but Fox told me Mac’s never there now.”

“Has Foxevertried being discreet?”

He laughs. “The conversation was only between me and him. He trusts me and he knows the information won’t get passed on.”

The two of them fascinate me because they seem almost like friends, yet one of them pimps the other out.

“It’s caused a lot of talk,” he continues.

“Why?”

“Well, he used to be at the club every week.” His eyes sharpen as he looks at my face. “And you don’t like that he did that.”

I make myself shrug casually. “Now youaretalking crap.”

Silence falls for a few beats, and then he thankfully lets it go. “Go on.”

I tap the granite of the breakfast bar, unable to look him in the eye. “He wants to set me up in a flat.”

There’s a second’s pause, and then he chokes on his drink, spitting tea over the countertop.

“Oh my god, that’sdisgusting,” I breathe in admiration.

He wipes his mouth. “What did you just say?”

I exhale slowly. “He said he’ll pay to set me up in a flat.”

“Cormac Reilly said that?”

“Who else would I be talking about? Barbra Streisand?”

“Well, she’d be more likely to live with you than Cormac, but the singing might get irritating. What the fuck?”

“Why are you so stunned? You were set up for a year by Mister X.”

“Mister X is not Cormac. He has regular arrangements with his men. He’s already got another one over in America. But Cormac…”

I lean forward. “Cormac, what?”

“He doesn’t set men up,” he says simply. “Are you sure he said that? Maybe you misheard him.”

“Oh yeah, sure. You mean he asked me to pass him the lube, and I thought he said he’d buy me a palace? I do pay attention to the client, you know. It’s one of your rules.”

“I don’t have that many.” I scoff, and he grins. “Okay, maybe I do. And don’t think I haven’t seen that folder labelledJulian’s Dossierin your room.”

I grin at him. “I had to write your wisdom down for posterity. Generations to come will read your words and weep from happiness.”

He laughs but then stares at me for so long I shift awkwardly under his gaze.

“So,” he says. “What are you going to do about his offer?”

“I don’t know.” I spread my hands. “I got into this thinking I’d do it just once, and then because Tyler’s debts are so big and Cormac offered more meetings, I carried on. But a flat with a bloke—that’s something different.”